Working hands, we both have working hands. We’ve both earned every scar, every callous for the sake of our craft. My hands have long lost anything f...minine about them, but I’m strangely content by that – these hands can craft dreams out of metal and stones. “Hi baby,” he whispered in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder. “Productive night?” He’s stopped asking whether it was a long night long ago. Sometimes, for me, nights are never long enough. “Yes,” I mumbled back, and continued to enjoy his. When she withdrew it, we measured and she managed to swallow 9 inches. We coaxed to do it again, and this time she 10.7 inches, and held it for almost 2 minutes.We cheered loudly, and then we saw her face fall, as she started at the kitchen door, my father had just witnessed my friend 'Deep Throat a Banana'.There was a pregnant pause as we shifted uneasily, afraid to ponder what was going through my fathers staid mind.He walked up to Stella, who was as tall as he was, took the banana, smiled. More

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